


The Trickster of London and the Painted Guest

by cyanloversupreme



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Character Death, Don Giovanni AU, Jonah Magnus has been undead for 200 slutty slutty years, M/M, The archive warning is because of Don Giovanni's plot, but those points will probably be altered to they're not a problem, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:33:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24584629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyanloversupreme/pseuds/cyanloversupreme
Summary: This is a Don Giovanni AU. That's it, that's the plot. I was watching Don Giovanni and went fuck what if that were Jonah Magnus and his regency harem. I guess the premise is that von Closen and Fanshawe are together and Jonah is traveling around the country trying to sleep with as many people as possible.
Relationships: Barnabas Bennett/Jonah Magnus, Barnabas Bennett/Mordechai Lukas, Jonah Magnus/Albrecht von Closen, Jonah Magnus/Sampson Kempthorne, Jonathan Fanshawe/Albrecht von Closen, Jonathan Fanshawe/Jonah Magnus, Jonathan Fanshawe/Robert Smirke, Maxwell Rayner/Jonah Magnus
Comments: 13
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really hoping I actually finish this fic lmao. I posted this in a fit at midnight so if there are spelling errors and whatnot... that's why. Yes, probably all of it is out of character and for that I apologize.

In the cool twilight, Sampson Kempthorne sat outside of Dr. Fanshawe’s residence. He watched as the gas lights lining the street were steadily lit, listening intently for any noise from inside. The stars began to flicker on, making his task of monitoring the house unseen far easier.

What a low place to fall, from esteemed architect to assistant of Jonah Magnus. It had begun with that damned Moffatt, poaching his commissions to the point where his wealth had lain far more in his connections than in what pennies he had in his pocket. 

After patiently watching the boy lighting the gas lights amble by, Mr. Kempthorne reminded himself that he held this position out of necessity rather than true desire. While he had attempted to garner Mr. Magnus’s attention, it had only resulted in one incident as was typical with the man.

However, after all that Mr. Magnus had put him through, he certainly desired his freedom. While such a drastic change would certainly mean losing his benefactor, perhaps catering to Mr. Magnus’s whims was worse a fate.

However, Kempthorne lost his opportunity to perseverate on the lost opportunities of life when a shout arose from the Fanshawe residence. Jonah Magnus himself emerged, falling out of a ground floor window into the back garden with a resounding thunk. However, Kempthorne, seated behind a rather large fern, began to worry that his position would soon be compromised. 

Fanshawe, clad in only a banyan, followed suit quickly. However, his fall was less graceful than Jonah’s given he had far less practice in the niche art of escaping from the windows of jilted lovers. In this feeble attempt to steady himself, he continually tipped the fern providing refuge to Kempthorne, resulting in a deluge of soil on his breeches. 

“ _Bloody excellent_ ,” he thought to himself, “ _so this is the state Mr. Magnus has gotten him to._ ” He turned and realized Fanshawe’s banyan did not cover everything that Fanshawe clearly believed it to. At this, he let out a short cough.

Fortunately however, his vegetal disguise was not revealed because at that precise moment Fanshawe let out a frankly undignified shriek.

“Jonah you WHORE! I thought you were ALBRECT,” he shrieked. Kempthorne moved two of the ferns leaves to cover his eyes from witnessing the horrors of a very exposed Fanshawe in an open banyan. 

“Look, I can explain…” Jonah said, accidentally falling into a hedge in a desperate attempt to climb it toward an escape.

“Can you!? How many men have you done this to…” Fanshawe shouted, growing more self conscious of the neighbours detecting the commotion. He finally wrapped his banyan around himself.

“I was here for Albrect! I was supposed to be enjoying him! Instead it was so dark that I mistook you for him!” Jonah said, finally getting his footing. 

“And now you’re making your hasty escape as always,” Fanshawe said, nose held in the air.

“Well… yes, what else am I supposed to do,” Jonah responded glibly, focused on surmounting the hedge.

While Jonah’s tortuously slow escape plan was under way, Albrecht sprinted into the garden, having heard the commotion.

“Dearest, what’s going on?” Mr. Von Closen said, embracing a quivering Dr. Fanshawe. 

“Albrecht, dearest, I…. I don’t even know where to begin…” the doctor said, upset at being put into such a situation. He collapsed on the cold garden path, clearly distraught.

“I never did trust that man, not after he convinced me to sleep with him as a desperate bid to get more money for that damned institute of his,” Mr. Von Closen said, kneeling on the ground in order to embrace Fanshawe.

“Well you didn’t have to keep funding his occult habit,” Fanshawe sniffed. Clearly, Albrecht’s ill-fated attempt at humour had failed. "He'd come into our room, and as it was so dark I couldn't see. Thinking he was you, I invited him into our bed. It was only once I had him in hand that I knew...

“I’d stop funding it if the man with the occult habit weren’t so damn attractive, love,” Albrect said, in a clumsy attempt at humor.

“Damn you, Albrecht,” Fanshawe said, clearly upset. 

“Jonathan, you know I’d redirect my patronage at your whim,” Albrect said, attempting to smooth things over. “Of all the people here, it’s you I most want to be happy.”

“Of course, calling me for the most minor of injuries is your way of accomplishing that,” Fanshawe replied. However, mirth had returned to his voice.

“If that’s what I had to do to get you in my life, so be it,” Albrecht said, leaning in to peck Fanshawe on the lips.

Their embrace escalated, Fanshawe leaning back into the kiss intensely, pinning Albrecht on the garden path. 

“Oh I see, schnucki, trying to come out on top of the situation,” Albrecht joked, wiggling his eyebrows. The innuendo was not lost on Fanshawe who simply sighed.

While the cloud of Jonah Magnus had ceased to hang over Von Closen and Fanshawe, it very much continued to hang over Sampson Kempthorne, whose uncomfortable crouch behind a fern had become even more uncomfortable with the pressing threat of having to witness make-up sex.

Having faced such a grave threat, Kempthorne attempted to climb over the fern in an attempt to pitch himself out of the garden. Unfortunately, such a masterful plan was ruined by a miscalculation of the mass of the fern’s pot, leading to it crashing down on the garden path.

Although blissed-out, both Von Closen and Fanshawe immediately turned to see a crazed Kempthorne, whose hair was filled with foliage and eyes heavy with sleep.

“Sampson, can you please tell me why you’re in my back garden at half-two in the morning,” Fanshawe said primly, still straddling Von Closen’s lap.

“Oh, you know, architects never rest, and it’s actually…” Kempthorne’s attempt at an explanation was immediately cut off by a very confused Von Closen.

“But Jonah had just written to me last week that you were his new assistant, something to do with Smirke he said,” Albrect declared forcefully, despite being horizontal on a garden path.

“Can we not speak of Smirke please,” Fanshawe said, rolling his eyes. “Such an egotist for someone who just designs things all day.” However, remembering his point, he turned his head to address Kempthorne. “I bet you’re keeping watch for Jonah, aren’t you?”

“Well I uhh….” Sampson continued to stumble through an explanation as he attempted to climb up the wall. Eventually aided by a shed, he threw himself over the hedge and fell into the street behind. 

Fanshawe and Albrect both stood up with a start.

“If there’s anything I know, it’s that good for nothing needs to be stopped,” Fanshawe said, climbing over the hedge in hot pursuit. Unfortunately, his bare foot chose that moment to step on Von Closen’s face.

“Apologies apologies!” He shouted as he tumbled over.

“None required!” Albrecht replied, swiftly conquering the hedge and continuing the chase of both Kempthorne and Magnus.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bois decide to go after Jonah.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for the person that left a comment on the last chapter. Was deadass gonna abandon this fic till I read that comment lmao. I fucked up my arm skateboarding so i apologize for any typos and such

Currently hiding in a turnip crate behind a townhouse, Jonah’s legs were unfortunately above his head in a rather uncomfortable situation. Without Sampson to distract, he had to concoct another escape plan, and he had to do it quickly.

Meanwhile, Fanshawe and von Closen were quietly walking the dark London streets, scouring for wherever that bastard had been able to gain lodging. However, it was becoming evident that Magnus’s hiding place was acquired either with enough money to prevent its reveal or was the bedchamber of some other poor unsuspecting man.

“I apologise for earlier,” Fanshawe mumbled.

“Oh it’s no matter Jonathan. As we both know Jonah Magnus continues to exploit the desires of those with our inclination,” Albrect replied, twirling his top hat in his hand.

“Well, I suppose that too was uncalled for,” Fanshawe said, coughing. “But no, I was rather… brash. Emotive. In the garden.”

“Jonathan, love, there is nothing to apologise for,” von Closen said. “I’m not exactly complaining about any of the events that… transpired afterwards.”

Fanshawe flushed and countered: “Well, as a matter of principle I’m supposed to minimise these situations. You’re simply incorrigible with your flirtation.”

“Oh am I the incorrigible one doctor? I do recall a certain incident when you came to visit my estate…” Albrect fired back, flirtatiously.

“Oh I’ll show you incor…!” Fanshawe began to shout in playful response when a certain architect appeared around the corner.

Robert Smirke himself, apparently out on a night walk, approached, aptly smirking.

“Incorrigible on a night like this gentlemen?” Smirke said, with an air of condescension that immediately irritated Fanshawe.

“Well I suppose so,” Fanshawe snapped. “What are you doing out in Holburn of all places at this hour?”

“I suppose the same question could be asked about you, not exactly in Bloomsbury are we?” Smirke countered. “Paying a visit to a gentleman caller?”

“Well…” Fanshawe faltered, not wanting to reveal the truth. It seemed as if Smirke, that insolent bother of a man knew exactly what shameful event had just transpired. “I asked you first!”

“I suppose you’re not incorrect doctor,” Smirke replied. “I was simply paying a visit to John Soane. As insufferable as he is, he remains my mentor and there is not much to be done about it.”

Albrect and Fanshawe exchanged a look. Both had presumed Smirke and Soane to have been engaged in some sort of relationship, but from what Smirke was saying this seemed to be untrue. Albrect then went back to craning his neck to look around the neighborhood.

“In any case, you both appear to be…” Smirke paused and glanced at von Closen, who was pilfering through a rubbish bin in search of Jonah Magnus. Clearing his throat he continued: “in search of something.”

Fanshawe, convinced Smirke knew about what Jonah had done to him, shoved him into a turnip box in anger. This happened to be the same turnip box Jonah had taken cover in, and was now creating a rather uncomfortable situation for the trickster.

“Jonathan, perhaps Robert was simply trying to help,” Albrect admonished.

Fanshawe looked at his feet, realising that Smirke in fact probably didn’t know the events that had just transpired. He flushed unsure if he should explain the recent scandal to. Glancing at whatever the hell Albrecht was attempting to do with the rubbish bin, he realised that perhaps some assistance may be necessary. Meanwhile, Jonah Magnus was trying to stay quiet in his radishy hiding place.

“Well, you see,” Fanshawe began. “I’ve been wronged.”

“Oh have you now,” Smirke said, playing at being unsurprised. 

“Well… yes. Jonah Magnus was behind it,” Fanshawe admitted.

“Christ, that harlot,” Smirke said. Albrect, returning back to the other two gentlemen, laughed in agreement.

“Yes. _Him_ ,” Fanshawe sighed. “I’m trying to find him to get my revenge.”

“Well, I suppose I’m as tired of his antics as the next man,” Smirke said. “And as a close friend of von Closens, while I’m loathe to tolerate you I suppose I’ll assist.”

“No, no, I’m out of here,” Fanshawe said. “I will not owe you, of all people, anything.”

Smirke smirked. “And how many times have you claimed that?”

“I’ve only claimed to sever myself from this social circle once, when I caught Mordechai Lukas, Sampson Kempthorne, and Jonah Magnus engaged in an unsightly act in the Traveller’s club,” Fanshawe said, upset he even had to remember such trauma as walking in on Jonah Magnus of all people. 

Jonah Magnus, on the other hand, laughed in triumph at the memory of another successful conquest, from his box.

“Well I suppose that’s what happens when you keep so many bedrooms for out of town members,” Smirke said, scoffing away Fanshawe’s concern.

“Well you’d be just as traumatised as I am!” Fanshawe exclaimed.

“None the matter,” Smirke replied. “I distinctly recall you exclaiming ‘I’m out of here forever!’ Upon receiving a false medical call from Albrect.”

“Look, simple flirtation can be forgiven,” Fanshawe said, smiling at the memory of Albrecht’s earliest attempts to court him. “It’s not my fault he chose to move on from a boring architect. I bet you’ve never taken him grave robbing!”

“Love, I’m right here,” Albrecht said, leaning in and embracing Fanshawe from behind.

“None the matter,” Smirke replied. “Of course, you stormed out crying ‘I’m leaving and there’s no way I’m returning to this social circle’ after one of Barnabus’s failed illusions.”

“I was stuck in a chest for 5 hours!” Fanshawe exclaimed. “Hardly suitable for a licensed physician. And Barnabus should really understand that “magician” is not a viable career path.”

“Jon…” Albrecht cleared his throat. “Please excuse us Mr. Smirke.” He ushered Fanshawe into an alley, out of earshot of Smirke, and directly into earshot of Jonah Magnus. Worried, Jonah began to concoct a plan of escape, beginning to scrape a hole into the patch of dirt the box rested on.

Jonathan sighed. “Albrecht, I’ve had a horrific night. I’ve been tricked by _Jonah Magnus_ of all people, and now I’ve run into…. Into…” Fanshawe couldn’t quite describe the-guy-you-used-to-regularly-commission-in-order-to-fuck eloquently, so instead spluttered out: “into…. _Smirke_! Of anyone I could have seen to remind me of how unfaithful I was to you!”

“My love, your actions toward Jonah were unintended, of course I’ll stand by you,” Albrect said, embracing Fanshawe. “You know anything I once had with Smirke is gone.”

“Yes, yes, but still. He holds it over me, like I’m inadequate somehow,” Fanshawe fussed.

“Oh no matter,” Albrect said, smiling. “He’s an architect, and architects are wont to behave in such an idiotic manner. Perhaps that’s why I’m holding one of you while leaving the other to stand awkwardly in the streetlight.”

Fanshawe smiled, and leaned up to peck Albrecht tenderly on the cheek. “Of course my love.”

Jonah Magnus gagged at the overly sweet display of affection happening not five feet from his turnip box, spurring him to dig his escape even faster.

“If we’re going to track down someone as slippery as Jonah, we’re going to need all the help we can get,” Albrect said softly.

“Of course,” Fanshawe said. “I suppose I can work with… _Smirke_.” He sighed contentedly as Albrect swooped up for another kiss.

Meanwhile, Smirke was still standing on the pavement, watching a very public display of affection. While he was holding a small portfolio he had taken to Mr. Soane’s house for feedback, it wasn’t enough to distract from the saccharine display playing out in front of him.

“Any day now gentlemen, any day now,” Smirke shouted, while looking in his portfolio.

“Of course, of course,” Fanshawe said, rushing back to the main street. “I’ll uh….”

Albrecht looked at Fanshawe, mentally trying to encourage him to accept Smirkes offer.

“Yes, I’ll accept your offer,” he said reluctantly.

“Oh doctor, such wonderful words to hear,” Smirke replied.

“Now, shall we depart from here and search for that slippery, slippery weasel of a man?” Albrect said, conciliatory.

“I can think of no better plan,” Smirke said, leading the way further down the street.

Once the three gentlemen were far enough, Jonah pushed the turnip box off of him. Unfortunately, given he had dug a hole waist deep in his escape attempt, it seemed he’d need a bit more assistance to escape his escape route that previously thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is totally unrelated but the John Soane house museum fucking slaps. Did I set a historical threesome in the Travellers club out of pettiness? Yes. And i have no regrets.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This just mordechai lukas and jonah magnus banging. if that's not ur cup of tea, basically the only plot in this chapter is that mordechai agrees to hide jonah from smirke & co. If you don't want to read it then you can just skip to the next chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! This chapter features explicit sex with a trans character (jonah). Additionally, there's like no aftercare (because it's mordechai lukas) and the consent is pretty dubious (sex in exchange for a favor is happening.) If any of these things aren't your cup of tea, that's chill, that's swag, just skip to the next chapter there's literally 0 plot to be found here

Fortunately for Jonah, he was able to eventually scrounge out of the hole he had dug on the edge of someone’s back garden. Unfortunately for Jonah, his clothing was completely disheveled, somewhat torn, and he had lost his cravat entirely. In other words, not the ideal attire to be accepted by polite society.

However, not to be deterred, he began mentally flipping through his rolodex of his former suitors, associates, and friends. Having recently disgraced both Dr. Fanshawe and Mr. von Closen did throw a bit of a spanner into his plan of using his social circle as protection, so he attempted to think of a friend who wouldn’t be as tied to such a group.

Jonah Magnus found himself trudging toward Mayfair, where he knew the London residence of Mordechai Lukas would be. It was a gamble as to if Mordechai would be in town or at his palatial residence in Kent. 

However, Jonah’s luck continued as the door to the townhouse opened and a servant, used to his presence in some capacity (and having previously been seduced and then swindled by Jonah himself) ushered him inside. Jonah stared at the cold, empty hallway, hoping he would have _something_ Mordechai valued enough to merit his protection.

“And what do we have here?” Mordechai rumbled, slowly moving down an elaborate staircase into the foyer, where Jonah was sitting. “Finally crawling back after something went wrong?”

“Something like that I suppose,” Jonah said. 

“Well then, spit it out,” Mordechai said.

“You see, my old habits have caught up to me again,” Jonah said. 

“Your insufferable curiosity or your desired for congress with _anything_ with legs?” Mordechai scoffed, now standing over the chair Jonah was sitting in.

“That’s… rather ungenerous of you,” Jonah said.

“Well, is that not the Jonah Magnus way?” Mordechai Lukas said. “Spreading open your legs for anyone with the right money, the right connections, the right temptation?” 

With that, Lukas, in a swift motion, maneuvered his right leg to casually push Jonah’s legs open. Jonah stared up.

“Ah so now I have your attention,” Mordechai snickered. 

“I… suppose so,” Jonah replied. “Is this what I’ll have to do then?” Immediately knowing the answer, Jonah pulled Mordechai in closer and began mouthing at the outline on his trousers.

Pleased with the way events were going, Mordechai responded. “Oh, you do learn quickly for such a harlot.” 

Demonstrating such a learning curve, Jonah unbuttoned Mordechai’s trousers, transfixed on the task at hand. Perhaps he had… a reputation… but if such a situation would function as payment for an escape from Smirke and his ilk, such a situation would in fact suffice perfectly.

Pushing down Mordechai’s drawers, he took him in hand, slowly working up and down the shaft until Mordechai was fully aroused.

“Just some more practice for you isn’t this?” Mordechai said, attempting to sound taunting. Of course, he was already invested in the outcome of this situation

“Mr. Lukas you seem incredibly invested in my own private affairs,” Jonah said, taking Mordechai into his mouth.

Mordechai weaved his hands into Jonah’s hair, tutting. “Jonah, while this is enjoyable I have rather more things I wish to do to you tonight.”

Jonah leaned back up. “Ah, worried someone might walk in are we?” Jonah said, tauntingly.

“Not all of us share your propensity for lovemaking in the most public of spaces,” Mordechai chastised, despite the fact the he too was a serial offender of such an act.

Finally, Mordechai guided Jonah into his chambers, sparsely decorated in part because his main residence was in Kent and in part because he held a simple disdain for knickknacks. They held too much personality, too much intimacy.

Jonah, now fully divested of his clothing, flopped onto the bed. “So Mr. Lukas, do you wish to have your way with me?”

“Hm perhaps,” Mordechai hummed. “A simple test to see if you have the mettle for temporary residence here.”

“Ah, and what must I do to pass?” Jonah said, coquettishly.

“Please, pass me your cravat, boy,” Mordechai commanded.

“Of course,” Jonah said, reaching for it where Mordechai had dropped it in the process of undressing Jonah.

“Lovely,” Mordechai said. “I need to make sure that a scoundrel such as yourself won’t run off to the next rich man who responds to open legs.”

“Yes, but what does my cravat have to do with…” the realisation that Mordechai intended to bind him to the bed slowly dawned and the mischievous glint in his eyes was replaced with a deeper sort of fire. “Ah yes, I see. Intending to keep your assets tied up.”

“Hmmm something like that,” Mordechai said, beginning to wind the cravat around Jonahs arms. “Oh, and how unfortunate that someone like you would be so desperate.”

“What do you mean,” Jonah said, squirming.

Mordechai dragged his fingers along Jonah’s folds, clucking at him patronizingly. “Oh what do I mean?” He continued, pushing a finger inside with a slick squelch. “Only a harlot like yourself would be this slick at the simple thought of being tied to a bed post.”

“Perhaps I’m simply excited about this new arrangement,” Jonah said, as Mordechai pulled out a strange new device. “Mr. Lukas, what is that… _thing_? Pray do tell.”

“Ah. Something Dr. Fanshawe is developing, he said it’s supposed to help treat hysteria,” Mordechai said, cryptically.

“We both know I couldn’t possibly be suffering from such an illness. That accusation is… it’s absurd!” Jonah replied. He knew for a fact that such an affliction was a fiction, given firsthand experience with such a biology.

“Oh perhaps it is,” Mordechai said, “but I’ve heard this new invention is supposed to bring about pleasure in other ways as well.”

“Oh you don’t mean to use me to test such a… rinky dink device,” Jonah retorted.

“Fanshawe has insisted I test on someone and you happen to be the only potential candidate here right now,” Mordechai replied.

“What about your wife?” Jonah said.

“Jonah Magnus, did you just ask me to share an intimate moment with my wife?” Mordechai asked, guffawing.

“I suppose so…” Jonah said. “Now quit delaying and either get started on me with your mouth or with… that… invention if that has to be the way this goes.”

“Desperate are we?” Mordechai taunted.

“Not in the slightest,” Jonah replied, unconvincingly. “I’m just curious.”

“Of course,” Mordechai said, scheming. “Then you won’t mind me leaving this device tied to you for the next few hours?”

Jonah faltered, and then remembered his own curiosity at… that… thing. “N…no. Of course not. New experiences right?”

“Oh I couldn’t agree more,” Mordechai said, tying Fanshawe’s device, now buzzing, so it would safely pleasure Jonah without being knocked away. His hands remained bound to the headboard, creating a sight Mordechai knew he wouldn’t want to forget any time soon.

Jonah began to writhe on the bed in pleasure, his hair on end and his face red in humiliation. Deep down, a part of him loved this. Loved being entirely on display for the viewing pleasure of one Mr. Mordechai Lukas. Loved knowing he’d be watched as long as he was like this.

“Putting on a show, are we?” Mordechai teased, flipping a switch on Fanshawe’s invention which caused the buzzing to accelerate.

Jonah, already on edge from when he’d almost been successful with Fanshawe, was now desperately rubbing against the new invention, trying to get even more friction.

“Oh you’re adorable like this. I’d love to just put you on display, in the middle of dinner party, let you be the entertainment,” Mordechai said, teasing Jonah.

The thought of such a spectacle pushed Jonah over the edge, and a white heat of pleasure overtook him. When he finally came to, he realized Fanshawes device was still tied to him.

“Mordechai, could you remove this blasted thing, I’m sure you learned your lesson,” Jonah said. However, he quivered, enjoying the new sensation the invention provided. 

“Oh but Jonah, would you really want that?” Mordechai said. “Would that satisfy your curiosity?”

“I… I suppose not,” Jonah said.

“Delightful,” Mordechai replied. “Then, if it’s alright with you, I’ll be leaving to conduct some of my own work.”

~~~

By the time Mordechai Lukas returned to the bedroom, Jonah Magnus’s eyes had been glazed over in pleasure long ago. While his arms remained tied above his head, his legs were spread wide, his desire on full display. He looks like the portrait of ecstasy.

“Oh Jonah, what a coincidence to find you here,” Mordechai chuckles to himself as he unties his prize. The hand-crank which moved the springs in the contraption still had about 30 minutes left to unwind, but Mordechai decided to take mercy, just this once.

The mewling mess that was once Jonah Magnus rolled over once freed from his restraints, mumbling something inaudible.

“My beautiful toy, you’re going to need to speak a bit louder than that.”

“I think they’re connected,” Jonah said, a complete non-sequitur.

“Oh and what’s that in connection to,” Mordechai said, uncaring. However, he began to clean Jonah up, doing the bare minimum.

“My desire for others stems from my curiosity of those experiences. To understand. To know. To watch,” Jonah said.

“Sounds like an awfully intellectual cover for sleeping around,” Mordechai responded.

“Perhaps you simply don’t understand.”

“Perhaps I don’t.” Mordechai replied. “Now Jonah, make sure to get plenty of sleep. I expect you to be my companion to the opera tomorrow.”

Jonah, halfway asleep, gave a vague noise of agreement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact! Mayfair is the most expensive square on the London monopoly board. Also this was my first explicit scene i've written so please be kind lol. I was rlly out here pretending vibrators existed in the regency era but ig you gotta do what you gotta do don't think too much about it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang tries to track down Jonah

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Character disappearance occurs! In the original opera it was an actual death but... I thought banishment into the lonely could work quite as well. Be warned!

The next night, as promised, Mordechai Lukas and Jonah Magnus began to walk to the opera together. Lukas was delighted at the prospect of making Jonah feel as alone as possible, while Jonah was trying to think of how the flee the country.

“Ah, interesting isn’t it,” Mordechai remarked as he walked along.

“Pardon… what?” Jonah replied, confused.

“What you’ll do to get out of facing consequences for your actions,” Mordechai replied, with a faint hint of condescension in his voice.

“Maybe so, but I will not allow Fanshawe, von Closen, and Smirke of all people to prove to be my undoing,” Jonah replied.

“Indeed.” Mordechai Lukas said. “It seems to me you’re playing with fire with those three.”

“How so?” Jonah replied, staring straight ahead.

“Oh I’m sure you’ll see,” Mordechai replied. “The von Closen family isn’t exactly dry on resources.”

“The von Closen family?” Jonah said, a tinge of surprise in his voice.

“Oh, you haven’t heard?” Mordechai said, lording the information over Jonah.

“Well… he sent me a letter about some nephew of his, but to be quite honest I was in the middle of something with Joseph Grimaldi when I received it so…” Jonah said, thinking about how this might prove to be his undoing. “I didn’t give it much thought.”

“None the matter, I’m sure you’ll find a way to get rid of such a nuisance,” Mordechai replied.

~~~

While such a discussion was occurring, Smirke, von Closen, and Fanshawe were regrouping in Smirke’s residence after the previous day’s work had failed them.

“Where could Jonah Magnus possibly be hiding?” Fanshawe exclaimed. Before him lay a map of London with a flurry of red string anchored by tacks: indications of Magnus’s potential route around the city.

“Perhaps London is not enough,” von Closen said, dramatically. “Perhaps…. We need to go world wide!”

Smirke rolled his eyes at the drama of his old friend. “I think we may just need to think about his social contacts. Who would give him lodging?”

“Or perhaps, who dislikes _us_ enough to give Jonah Magnus a place to hide,” Jonathan qualified.

“Well there is… that creepy clown that Jon insulted unnecessarily in convent garden,” Albrecht volunteered.

Fanshawe glared at von Closen, clearly upset that such an argument was now being revealed in front of Smirke.

“It’s not my fault! I walked in on him… and _that man…_ engaged in something I wish never to rewatch,” Fanshawe sulked, refusing to explicitly bring up Jonah. “I swear he chooses the most public situations for these… displays.”

“Of course my love, all of this would be understandable,” von Closen said, attempting to calm the doctor down.

“At any rate, I’ll need to be departing soon, I have something important to get to Mordechai Lukes,” Smirke said, standing up to leave.

“Anyhow, I’m tired of chasing Jonah, perhaps we should just give it a rest,” Jonathan said.

“Are you sure?” Smirke said. “I’m as eager as you are to finally put an end to the drama seemingly generated by a singular man.”

“I’m certain Robert,” Fanshawe sighed. “There’s no point in allowing someone so uncaring to dominate my life like this.

“Well, perhaps Mordechai is lodging Jonah Magnus!” Albrect guessed in an instant of inspiration, while looking at a list of possible associates to Mr. Magnus.

Doctor Jonathan Fanshawe knew deep in his heart that if he went to see Jonah Magnus at Mordechai Lukas’s house, he would only end up saying something horrendously hurtful and uncalled for.

“Albrect, we’re going to pay a visit to Mr. Magnus.”

“Wait, but you just said…” Albrecht said in visible confusion toward his beloved. 

“No, no, I agree,” Smirke replied. “As rare as it is for me to agree with _anything_ that Jonathan has to say… we need to stop letting that man terrorize us all.”

~~

While the intrepid three marched to Mordechai Lukas’s house in search of justice, Mordechai Lukas and Jonah Magnus marched into their box at the opera, Jonah’s mood having made a turn of the worst

“My my Jonah, what’s all this panic about?” Mordechai said, in the least sincere way possible.

“My social standing is slipping!” Jonah replied. Unfortunately, the glass of wine he was holding spilled slightly on the floor due to his hand-waving.

“Hmm… and what tipped off a Don Juan such as yourself to such a shocking conclusion?” Mordechai said. “It’s not as though you’ve been banned from most social establishments in this city.”

“I’m talking about the fact that my ‘friend’ Robert Smirke is now assisting von Closen and Fanshawe! Who next? Barnabus Bennet? I think he’s going for a power-grab that _whore_ ” Jonah shouted, upset.

“Who is this Barnabus now?” Mordechai asked. “Well never mind that, while their opera box may be next to yours we’re in mine now, so they can’t hear you.”

“It doesn’t matter Mordechai! I’m tired of being chased out of everywhere,” Jonah said.

“Well I think perhaps it would be beneficial to stop sleeping with everyone around you,” Mordechai said absently. “Now lets see what we can do about the entertainment here.”

~~~

Finally having reached Mordechai’s house, Fanshawe knocked loudly on the door, ready to make his statement loud and clear.

Unfortunately, it was simply a servant who answered, telling them Mordechai _and a guest_ had left to the opera.

Thusly, Smirke, von Closen, and Fanshawe made their way to the opera house.

They entered just as the show was starting, all three glancing out from Fanshawe’s box in search of Jonah Magnus. Eventually, Mordechai, however, was spotted in his usual box.

“Ah there’s the rat, now we just have to find the other one,” Smirke said, focusing through a pair of golden binoculars he brought for strictly discovery purposes. Suddenly, a tuft of ginger hair appeared in the lower half of the box, as if someone were sitting on the floor.

“Oh hand those here I need to see,” Fanshawe said, almost knocking the binoculars out of Smirke’s hand.

“Not a chance!” Smirke replied, continuing his gaze.

~~

Midway through the first act, Jonah Magnus began to get bored. It wasn’t the promise of Syllabub after the opera that made him distracted, but rather the fact that he had seen this particular show before. So much for Don Giovanni.

“Not enjoying Mozart?” Mordechai whispered mockingly.

“Ah something like that,” Jonah responded coyly.

“I perhaps could think of better ways to occupy your time then,” Mordechai responded.

Jonah then proceeded to get on his knees, and began to entertain himself far more than what interest he had previously had in the opera.

~~~

“There’s absolutely _no way_ he’s just doing that in public,” Smirke said in shock.

Fanshawe sulked, upset that he couldn’t see the scene Smirke was describing. “Robert, please. There’s no reason for this. Besides, are you sure it’s him?”

“Do you know any other promiscuous gingers?” Smirke asked, harshly.

“No, I suppose not…” Fanshawe said, biting his lip. 

“Exactly,” Robert Smirke replied. “Oh! He’s moving further up Mordechai’s lap!”

“Damn you, you rat bastard of an architect!” Fanshawe said. “Give me those binoculars or I’ll… I’ll…”

“What will you do dearest doctor?” Robert Smirke said, smugly.

“Perhaps this argument is worthless,” Albrecht said, unheard. “Perhaps we should focus on getting to Jonah?”

“I’ll….” Fanshawe didn’t know.

“Exactly, now allow me to watch the show in peace,” Smirke said, turning back to the golden device.

“You absolute bastard,” Fanshawe said, in an ill-fated attempt to reach for the binoculars. Unfortunately, his hand eye coordination, while excellent in the medical practice, was less skilled when he was trying to focus on Jonah Magnus engaged in a sex act at the opera while also attempting to wrestle his erstwhile romantic rival for a pair of binoculars.

Because of this lack of coordination, the binoculars were knocked from the box, into the crowd below. Fortunately, it seemed to have gone unnoticed by all but Smirke and von Closen.

“Damn you! Now I can’t see what’s happening!” Smirke said, irritated.

“Have either of you perhaps considered how odd simply standing by and watching Jonah in this moment is?” Albrecht said, attempting to move the discussion to more productive ground.

“Well this _rat_ right here just wanted to watch him… how perverse,” Fanshawe sniffed.

“Look, I needed to scope out the territory,” Smirke responded.

“All right. Shall we move to his box then?” Albrect asked.

“I suppose this is it then,” Fanshawe said as they walked toward Mordechai’s box.

“Yes. We go in, we get our revenge, and we leave,” Smirke said.

The three then snuck out of Fanshawe’s box and around to the corridor where Mordechai’s box would be located. Albrecht took the initiative to rush into the box first, confronting Mordechai and Jonah.

“Goddamnit he really _was_ pleasuring you,” Albrecht said, disappointed in Jonah.

Jonah looked up, and abruptly rushed out of the box past Albrecht, but unfortunately into the waiting arms of Robert and Jonathan.

“Damn you both!” Jonah said. “Just let me get along with my life!”

“Or you’ll do what?” Fanshawe said, echoing Robert’s previous taunt.

“I’ll… I’ll…. MORDECHAI!!!!” Jonah shouted.

“Oh what’s that supposed to do,” Smirke deadpanned.

Mordechai, gripping Albrecht, walked out into the corridor. “How much do you care for dear Albrecht here?”

“Well I… How is this relevant?” Fanshawe said.

With that, a fog descended over the corridor, and Albrecht disappeared.

“ _What did you do to him,”_ Fanshawe said, nervously.

“Oh… have you ever heard of the forsaken perhaps?” Mordechai said, nonchalantly. 

With this, Smirke paled.

“Robert, is this one of your… your fourteen…” Fanshawe said, panicked.

“Y..yes. I believe so,” Smirke said, frozen.

Fanshawe collapsed on the ground in shock while Smirke stood stock still, allowing for Mordechai and Jonah to make their escape.

“Now, if you’ll excuse us gentlemen, we’ll be off,” Jonah said, plodding away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, I just found out about syllabub today and the name alone cracked me up. It's an old whipped desert that's like... fluffy wine lmao. It capture my fascination and I just had to include it briefly.
> 
> Thank you all for reading this horrifically cobbled together mess!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonah and Mordechai run away from their problems, Smirke and Fanshawe have to forge an awkward alliance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rlly just sad boi hours ngl

Jonah Magnus had made another big escape. Yes, perhaps that involved vanishing Albrecht to the lonely for eternity, and yes, perhaps that wasn’t the most strategic move. But it did the job and removed his biggest obstacle as well.

Given he was now a wanted man, both sexually and by the law, he determined that he’d first need to find his assistant, Kempthorne, once again. Fortunately, this was not that difficult, as Kempthorne patronized a total of three different establishments. The second pub he checked was a success, with Jonah spotting Kempthorne from the outside window.

Jonah walked inside, up to Sampson, and sat down.

“Hello Sampson,” Jonah said, lightly.

“Ah yes, greetings Jonah,” Sampson said, looking up from the pint he was working on. “Now what antics are you up to?”

“Well, I’ve just returned from the opera” said Jonah. “And well…”

“Now you’re a prime suspect in connection to the death of Albrecht von Closen?” Kempthorne said, laughing at how predictable Jonah could be. He would do just about anything to advance his own interests.

“Well…” Jonah said, in an attempt to explain. “Mordechai cast him to the lonely.”

“Is that any better?” Kempthorne said, skeptically.

“I suppose not,” Jonah responded. “I do intend to keep him there forever, for all the trouble I’ve been put through.”

“I see,” Kempthorne said. “But you’re a wanted man here, what do you intend to do?”

“I suppose I’ll flee to the countryside,” Jonah said. “Kent would suit me this time of year.”

“And you want me to come with you?” Kempthorne said. He knew Jonah was being absurd, but he also knew that he would be paid handsomely for accompanying the man, and so mentally prepared for yet another absurd journey.

“Why else do you think I came here?” Jonah said, with a smug immutable smile.

~~~

Mordechai Lukas, however, had a much easier plan for escape. Unlike Jonah, he was not incessantly tied to the entire social universe London had to offer, and thus was able to slip relatively effortlessly back to his manor in Kent.

He settled back in, looking around the estate, and thinking about how he would bide his time until it was once again proper to re-enter proper society. He believed that he had enough money that his little faux pas wouldn’t matter for much in the grand scheme of things. 

However, things were boring in Kent, and so the night he arrived to Moorland house, he decided on visiting a social event he had been vaguely reminded of by his family. He wanted to find someone’s loneliness to harvest for his own gain.

He stoically entered the neighboring manor, and awkwardly floated around the party as he was wont to do. Finally, he settled on a cherubic young man sitting in a chair in the corner of the room.

“Hello, and who might you be?” Mordechai said, doing his best to sound inviting. Unfortunately, he failed. 

“Oh!” The man paused, startled by suddenly being spoken to. “Sorry, I’m just surprised you’re speaking to me. I’m Barnabas Bennett, how do you do?”

_This will do quite nicely_ Mordechai Lukas thought to himself.

~~~

Fanshawe and Smirke were left standing the corridor, stock still at what had just occurred. Somehow Albrect Von Closen, beloved by both (despite having a checkered past with the latter), had disappeared into the Lonely and was perhaps killed. All so that Jonah Magnus could continue along with his cycle of seducing some poor target and then discard him in equal manner.

Fanshawe was still on the ground, baffled at what had just occurred. He didn’t understand how _his_ Albrecht had been taken away from him, his partner in crime. He’d always assumed the only way Albrecht would leave his life would be for someone like Smirke to convince him to cheat. Unfortunately, the situation now looked much more dire.

“Robert… are you absolutely _sure_ that Albrect is gone?” Fanshawe said, his voice low.

“Perhaps not forever but… Mordechai banished him to a realm that only Lukas can control. He’s not coming back soon, I don’t think there’s much we can do,” Smirke said.

With that, Fanshawe began and very undignified weep, mourning the loss of someone who had been with him for a substantial amount of time.

Robert Smirke stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out what to do. On the one hand, there was their animosity due to his past relationship with Albrecht. However on the other, Albrecht was gone and it was hitting him hard. Perhaps not as bad as Fanshawe, who would now have to wake up to an empty bed in an empty house with an empty heart. But still. Albrecht was gone, and there wasn’t much to be done.

Smirke decided that he was distraught enough about the loss of Albrecht that he could tolerate comforting someone so typically a nuisance as Jonathan Fanshawe. Perhaps it wouldn’t become a habit, but the moment was difficult enough to warrant it. He sat down next to the weeping Fanshawe, resting his arm on the doctor’s shoulder.

“You know… he was just so… so eccentric,” Fanshawe weeped. “I loved every moment of it.”

“At the risk of…” Smirke glanced at Fanshawe “Perhaps stoking some imaginary rivalry. Albrecht was… he _is_ special.”

Fanshawe collapsed into a fit of crying. Smirke looked around the corridor, trying to decide what to do. While buildings made sense to him, people were more difficult. He’d been lucky that Albrecht had been able to see past that, and less luck when he’d decided to walk out of von Closen’s Schramberg estate in a strop, never to return to the noble’s arms.

“He was…” Fanshawe broke down again. “I can’t bear to live without him.”

Smirke awkwardly held Fanshawe, trying to comfort him, and failing at it. They sat in mournful silence, Fanshawe trying to imagine life without Albrecht and Smirke trying to figure out how to handle the situation.

Intermission began, people rushing all around them in an effort to stretch in preparation for the next act. The excited chatter bubbled around them in stark contrast to Smirke's stoic glance ahead and Fanshawe’s quiet sniffling.

“Jonathan…” Smirke started, trying to be gentle. “Have you considered… perhaps moving this outside?”

Fanshawe looked up at Smirke, slowly comprehending what he’d just said and then weighing the options. Finally, he nodded his head, agreeing to Smirke’s suggestion.

“Right right, let’s just. Let’s get you out of here, alright?” Said Smirke, slowly helping Fanshawe up off the opera house’s floor.

They slowly made their way through the intermission crowd, being jostled apart every so often by the occasional overzealous patron. Finally, however, they made it out to the cool nighttime air outside the opera. 

“I’m… I’m terribly sorry Robert,” Fanshawe said, sniffling. “I don’t mean to… to ruin your night”

Smirke laughed, darkly. “Jonathan, I believe the death of our… associate… has ruined my night far more than anything you could do.”

“I suppose so,” Fanshawe said, sitting down on the exterior stairs of the opera house. “I just… I miss him already.”

Fanshawe began to weep again, shivering in the cold. Smirke simply stared.

“Jonathan?” He quietly asked.

“Y-yes?” Fanshawe sniffled.

“Are you cold?” Smirke asked. He didn’t know how to make his barely-an-ally feel better, but he did know how to solve a simple problem like that.

“I suppose so?” Fanshawe said. “It’s simply all too much, the fact that _Jonah Magnus_ of all people not only tricked me but then decided to send _my_ Albrecht to…”

Fanshawe was cut off by Smirke swiftly removing his overcoat and draping it on the doctor’s shoulders.

“O-oh” Fanshawe said, surprised the the odd moment of tenderness.

“Sorry, I can just…” Smirke began.

“No! No, not a problem,” Fanshawe awkwardly interjected, flushing slightly.

They lapsed back into silence, both thinking about the events of the the past day. How _quickly_ Mordechai took von Closen away, how he did it without a hint of remorse.

“Look, Jonathan,” Smirke began, staring at a streetlamp. “I know we got off to a horrendous start.”

“Oh you think so?” Fanshawe snorted, as if to say _what an understatement_. “For the record, I still think you’re a rat bastard.”

“Yes, yes, I know.” Smirke said, sighing. “But I happen to hate Jonah Magnus just as much as you.”

“I want him gone,” Fanshawe said darkly.

“Yes.” Smirke said. “Perhaps we should briefly put aside our differences, for the sake of taking down that _awful_ awful man.”

“I suppose you’re not wrong,” Fanshawe replied, pulling Smirke's coat around him more tightly. “But remember. We are not friends. And when this is over, we go back to never speaking to each other.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Smirke said.

“Anything to get back at Jonah for taking away Albrecht,” Fanshawe said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not intend for this to feel shippy but then it did and like... oops ig. Idek of anyone who ships Jfan and Smirke but here we are.


End file.
